Acceptance
by Eriks Angel1
Summary: Christine's leaving with one man, but is in love with another...
1. The Initial Realisation

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters *sob sob* they belong to various highly talented people, including Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, Andrew Lloyd Webber.  (why isn't my name on this list???)   
  


  
**_Acceptance_**

  
**_The Initial Realisation_****__**

~~-Christine-~~

If what I was doing was so right, so perfect, so guaranteed to ensure my future happiness then why did it feel so… wrong, so final?

Raoul, dishevelled and seemingly incredulous that we were free steered Erik's boat in a desperate manner which lacked dexterity.  

He struggled in vain to manoeuvre us towards safety, towards freedom.  As his eyes alighted on my own they lit with adoration, and for a moment he was distracted from the task of propelling us away from the Phantom's lair.  His frantic gaze transformed into one of tenderness.

I hoped my countenance remained composed, bland, indifferent, anything to protect this man from the truth which was taking hold of me from within with startling clarity.  I vowed to maintain my silence, to feign fear, or stupidity…

"Stop, Raoul, please, stop" I cried, abruptly silencing myself, wondering how I'd faltered and let the torrent of truth begin, wondering whether I was about to make a very great mistake but knowing that now I would have to continue, regardless of the outcome.

His adoring gaze clouded, he sat up suddenly, almost overbalancing us.  It was as though he had forgotten our location in a moment of panic which I myself had caused.

"Christine, my love, whatever is wrong?" concern etched into his features he took my trembling hands in his own, a simple gesture, and yet one that I couldn't bear.  I hastily pulled away.  He deserved his dignity, I couldn't pretend anymore, I couldn't lead him to believe something that was undeniably false.

"Christine?" For a moment the man before me was replaced by the boy of merely 14 that I'd once known, once idolised with all the intensity that a girlish crush would allow. I was Little Lotte once more, letting my mind wander, to the time when this man had held the fragile strings of my young heart.  I was on the beach, smiling with innocent wonder at the dashing young hero who stood before me, absolutely soaked through the skin and still fully clothed, holding out my red scarf like a prize, oblivious to the outraged cries of the middle aged lady he had been walking with.

But Little Lotte was no more, no more than a childhood fantasy, fuelled by the combination of a doting father and a newfound friend.  Little Lotte personified the girl I had once been, but the woman I had become wanted so much more.

I needed more, craved more.  I was Elyssa, Margarita, but above all I was Aminta.  Aminta to Erik's Don Juan Triumphant.  From the moment our voices entwined in that fervent duet, the man I had known in many guises; angel, phantom, friend, and protector, had awakened some nameless aspect of my being that had previously been shrouded from me.  I can only compare it to tasting forbidden fruit, and being left with a compelling urge for more.

Until the moment our lips touched I had never known passion, never known true desire.  All childish stirrings within my soul had been blown away by the raging fire that threatened to consume me when Erik's trembling lips had caressed my own.  

Erik, majestic, terrifying, powerful, mysterious, trembling like an innocent child at the thought of my caress?  I'd never known power until that moment, never even dreamed I could have such influence over another person.  Yes, physically I was no more advanced than the little girl I once was, but once Erik unlocked that new part of me I knew instinctively there was so much more to love and desire, I wasn't a complete innocent, I'd heard the girls of the chorus line talking, but until this moment it had never occurred that the things they spoke of were things that I could experience for myself…

"Christine" urgent and insistent, Raoul, my childhood sweetheart and now, I realised, my dearest friend, looked dumbstruck as he seized my hand once more.

I felt terrible; he didn't deserve this.  He'd risked his life for me, battled with the so-called Angel of Darkness and never once faltered, and now I was about to destroy everything he'd believed in for over a year.  He'd defied his family for me, sheltered me from the grief upon the death of my beloved father, promised me the world.

I broke down then; I was exhausted, confused, and overwhelmed by guilt.

Raoul took me in his arms, enfolding me in his dress coat and whispering soothing words to placate me, which only added to my guilt and I sobbed convulsively.

"My darling, my little Lotte, please, don't cry, it's over" Raoul smiled, well meaning, and genuine, but there was a note of condescension in his voice which finally solidified my resolve.

I reigned in my anguish, shrugged away his tender embrace and looked him in the eyes.

"Yes Raoul, you are right, it is over" 

  
  



	2. From Darkness I Came, To Darkness I Will...

**A/N**:  Well, I've been meaning to update this story for SO long but have never had a chance to get around to it.  So, anyway, here it is….

_From Darkness I Came, To Darkness I Will Return_

  
~~-Erik-~~

One tiny drop of purity.  From the blackest recesses of my sludgy, poisoned mind, that innocent, demure child seized the pearl once planted by a kind hearted French lady who remained my mother's loyal friend right until the end.  I'd never envisaged anyone accomplishing this, but the child somehow managed it.  She took that tiny grain of the remaining goodness of my damned soul; fashioned it, nurtured it, and made it grow.  She allowed me believe for the first time in 50 years that human nature was not entirely to be abhorred.  For a brief interlude I believed there may be something good for me, dared to hope that I could have been wrong when I admitted that no woman could ever look upon me in love.

            Oh how stupid can one man be, how blind?  How powerful can love be, to banish 50 years of denial and mutual rejection between myself and the human race?

How could such a unique lady love me?  I have deluded myself into believing that it was love; I controlled her, possessed the most intimate caverns of her mind and soul.  

I could have told her anything, my deception knew no bounds. I assumed the role of artist, painting her a world in which I was her angel, her father, her friend, her essence.  But it was all based on LIES, pure fiction, no solid foundations, and, as any architect knows, the foundations are the most important aspect of successful construction, for without solid beginnings the entire thing is likely to come crashing down to nothingness.

            Complete fool, I betrayed myself, I betrayed her, I destroyed it all.  Monster that I undoubtedly am I just couldn't force her to stay, when the time came.  I know she would have remained in my bleak underworld, and gladly; sheer terror and love for that damn boy would have compelled her to give it all up, to cast her life into darkness so that he may shine in the world they had shared.  

She loathed me, feared me, hated me, 'fallen idol and false friend' she'd spat, her enchanting eyes brimming with a venom of such intensity that for a moment my blind rage withered.  With those words she flung my hopes and dreams, fragile as they were, to the wind.  Until that point I'd never deliberately harmed a woman, never set out to taint the purity of a member of the fairer sex.  I'd always prided myself on my gentlemanly behaviour; now it was yet one more aspect of my character that had become sludged with the filth that consumed the rest of my soul, for I knew that however I termed it, I had ultimately deliberately harmed her.

            Blackness descended as she fled, in the arms of that boy, only to be repelled momentarily by foolish hope when she returned.  

What a mistake - that was the first time I told her that I loved her, my final act of desperation, and still she fled, terror contorting her otherwise perfect features.  It should have been the perfect moment, bitter old cynic that I am she'd let me dream that we could have had perfection, but no, reality is far too grim, monsters forfeit the right to happiness.   All my abhorrence and hatred of the human race was personified in the man who spirited my last ray of light away.

And now, this eternal blackness that is my cocoon, is all that remains.  I'd been told so often that I should never have been allowed to live, and yet I defied them all, I'd lived half a century, believing that I must have some high aspiration, some unknown reason for defying death, despite the fear and loathing that caused the human race to exile me.  Everything I'd believed had been wrong, all my motives for sustaining my existence were shattered, there was nothing left.  So, now, death, welcoming death, the only adventure I had yet to experience, claim me, your very own creation, your Angel of Darkness, claim me and let this overwhelming pain cease…


End file.
